


The Brobecks Van

by frankiesin



Series: Say It With Neon [18]
Category: Bandom, I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: "Gay Rights!" -Ryan Seaman, Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Sex, Coming Out, M/M, Pining, early 2000s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Dallon Weekes' first semester at BYU involves the following: his first car, his first gig as a member of the Brobecks, his first kiss, and his first time. Not all at once, though.(MM17 universe)





	The Brobecks Van

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, Dallon is referred to with he/him pronouns in this, but it's only because they don't know that they're nonbinary yet. Also this ended up being longer than I expected and so YeeHaw. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**October 2, 2001; Provo, Utah.**

 

“This is ridiculous,” Ryan said. He, Dallon, and the two Matts were sitting around a table in the library, pointedly not doing school work. Ryan dropped down the paper he’d been flipping through and looked up at his friends (and soon to be bandmates). “Why is it so hard to find a place where we can play a gig? What’s wrong with this city?”

 

Dallon could tell that Ryan was trying hard not to swear. None of the four of them cared, but the other people in the library might. Despite his outward appearance, Ryan really did care about how other people saw him. He didn’t want to be known on campus as a total asshole. 

 

“Maybe we should try looking at Salt Lake City,” Glass suggested. “That’s where everything happens on the weekends anyway.”

 

“We need a car for that. A van, really, because there’s  _ no way  _ we can fit Ryan’s drums in my little Honda,” Seppi said. He flipped a page over in the book he was reading. It wasn’t even for an assignment. Seppi just liked to pick up random books from the psychology section and flip through them for fun. Seppi was an odd guy, but he was smart and he could sing and write music, and those things were important. 

 

“We could get a van,” Dallon said. “I’d been thinking about getting a car anyway. I don’t want to be waiting for a bus in the snow all winter.”

 

“Hell yeah,” Ryan said, his face splitting into a grin. He elbowed Dallon gently. “There’s a used car place near where my parents live. I could ask my dad to pick us up this weekend and we could get you a van for the band.”

 

Ryan looked over at the Matts, as though just remembering that they were still there. “You guys can come with us, too. We’re all gonna have to use the van at some point.”

 

“Can’t,” said Seppi. “I’ve got a date, and on Sunday I have to work all day.”

 

“Yeah, I can’t either,”Glass said, looking embarrassed about it. “It’s parents’ weekend, and you know how my mom is. She doesn’t care that I’m out of the house; she’s still hoping I’ll give up on college and move back home so that she can never let me out of her sight again.”

 

Dallon winced at that. He couldn’t imagine living like that. Sure, his parents were strict, but they understood that Dallon was an adult and was going to do things without their explicit permission. If Dallon’s mom checked in on him the way Glass’s mom did, Dallon would lose his mind. Dallon liked having freedom, and privacy, and his parents letting him choose how frequently he checked in. 

 

“Well, guess it’s gonna be just us, then,” Ryan said. He looked back over at Dallon, and something in Dallon’s chest flipped over. Ryan’s eyes were bright, crinkling up at the edges as he smiled. For a guy who wore all black and listened to music that sounded like screeching, he was incredibly happy. Ryan flipped his hair out of his eyes, and Dallon’s chest flipped again. “When do you wanna go?I’m free for the whole weekend.”

 

“How long’s the drive?” Dallon asked, once his mouth had remembered how to form words. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but it was as though the only thing he could look at anymore was Ryan. Dallon cleared his throat. “And, uh, how late is the place open?”

 

“Until eight,” Ryan said. He hadn’t noticed that Dallon was acting odd. “So how about my dad gets us lunch and then we drive down? That’ll give us about five hours to find you something.”

 

“Works for me,” Dallon said. 

 

Ryan’s face lit up, and Dallon had to look away. Whatever had been flipping around in his chest had flipped up into his throat. Dallon had a feeling that, if he said anything more, the stuff in his throat would come out. 

 

* * *

 

**October 6, 2001; Eagle Mountain, Utah.**

 

Dallon had figured out everything in his sleep, and the conclusion was really, really bad. He’d had a dream where Ryan was there, and the two of them were back at the library. They were alone this time, and standing amongst the shelves instead of sitting at a table. Ryan was wearing his jean jacket, the one covered with patches for bands that Dallon had never heard of. 

 

Ryan was laughing at something Dallon had said. His face was crinkled up and his hair was falling into his eyes. In the dream, Dallon reached out and brushed Ryan’s hair away. It was soft. 

 

Dream Ryan opened his eyes. Dallon kept his hand on Ryan’s face, pressed against his warm, slightly scruffy cheek. Ryan had looked Dallon up and down before saying, “so are you gonna do it? Are you gonna kiss me?”

 

Dream Dallon had leaned forward. Dallon wasn’t sure what the kiss felt like, and that was probably for the best. Dallon had never kissed anyone, guy or girl. He’d spent most of high school trying not to think about any guys, and for the most part, it had worked. No girls had any interest in Dallon, and Dallon hadn’t tried to get himself a girlfriend. He couldn’t do that. He’d rather be alone than lie to someone about his feelings. That wouldn’t have been fair for the girl. 

 

Dallon took a deep breath and looked out the car window again. He was in the car with Ryan and Ryan’s dad now, headed toward Ryan’s hometown. Dallon was looking anywhere besides Ryan and his dad. He didn’t want them to know. He  _ couldn’t _ let them know. 

 

There was a Bible sitting between the front seats of the car. It was acting as a constant needed reminder that people like Dallon weren’t really welcome. If Dallon wanted to be friends with Ryan, he’d have to bury those thoughts. Bury them, and then keep adding dirt so that he couldn’t think about Ryan like that, not even in his dreams. 

 

Ryan was talkative. Dallon was glad, because the more Ryan talked, the less Dallon could think about things. The problem, of course, with Ryan talking so much, was that Dallon really liked listening to his voice. It was deep, and gravelly sometimes, and it cracked whenever Ryan got too excited about whatever he was talking about. 

 

That thing in Dallon’s throat dropped back into his chest with a heavy thud. 

 

“When should I pick you boys up?” Ryan’s dad asked. He had dark brown hair and very much looked like a college professor. Dallon could see himself looking like that in about thirty years. Ryan wouldn’t ever look like that. Dallon suspected that Ryan would look like a goth until the day he died. 

 

Dallon smiled to himself, thinking about a sixty year old Ryan Seaman with spiked hair and a tattered leather jacket. 

 

“Oh, you don’t need to pick us up,” Ryan said. He turned around in the front seat and smiled at Dallon. “We’re going home in our  _ own _ ride tonight. Victory or death, dad!”

 

“Let’s not go that far,” Ryan’s dad said, laughing nervously. Dallon wasn’t sure how to react to that. He knew that Ryan’s humour was a little dark, but at school Dallon always played into it. This wasn’t school, however, and Dallon knew that everyone acted like a different person around their parents. 

 

“Victory or the shame of calling for a ride?” Dallon offered.

 

Ryan shook his head. “No way, dude. We’re getting you a van, and then you’re going to drive it back to BYU and we can really get started on this band.”

 

“Did you boys figure out a name yet?” Ryan’s dad asked. 

 

“The Brobecks,” Ryan and Dallon said at the same time. They’d only just settled on the name, but it worked. The four of them were an odd bunch, and often got strange looks whenever they hung out together. The actual Brobecks, who’d lived across the street from Dallon when he was a kid, had been equally weird. Dallon was hoping that his band would have a better ending than the real Brobecks, who ended up moving to a different school district because their kids were getting bullied. 

 

Ryan’s dad nodded at the name. “Well. Whenever you guys get a show, let me know. Your mother and I would love to hear you perform.”

 

With that, the conversation ended. Ryan’s dad let Ryan and Dallon out in front of the dealership. It was very much in the middle of nowhere, and Dallon felt very out of place. He’d grown up in Las Vegas, with the downtown area only a twenty minute drive away. He couldn’t imagine living out here, where there was nothing but desert and mountains for miles. 

 

“Wow,” Dallon breathed out. “This is… different.”

 

Ryan arched an eyebrow. “You mean buttfuck nowhere?”

 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Dallon said. 

 

“You were thinking it,” Ryan said. He bumped his shoulder with Dallon’s. “It’s cool. I’m used to it. You’re a big city boy, I’m from the middle of nowhere, it’s like that sometimes. Let’s get a van.”

 

“That’s what we’re here for,” Dallon said. He gently pressed his hand to where Ryan had bumped his shoulder and followed Ryan in through the open gates. He couldn’t see any vans, but that didn’t mean they’d come out here for nothing. Ryan believed in this place, and Ryan was Dallon’s friend, so Dallon believed in him. 

 

There was an older couple sitting in the garage, and the woman stood up as Ryan approached. She waved him over. “Ryan Seaman! Are you finally getting yourself a car?”

 

“Nope!” Ryan grinned, proud of himself. Dallon could also see Ryan bumming rides off of people until he was an old man as well. Ryan pointed to Dallon. “It’s for my friend. We’re looking for a van.”

 

“We got one in the other day,” the old man said. He was watching Dallon with an odd look on his face. Dallon swallowed. He didn't know these people. He didn’t know what they thought of him, or if they thought anything about him at all. Dallon didn’t want people to look at him and immediately know that he was gay. That was one of his worst fears, was being outed by his looks alone. 

 

Ryan dug the heel of his boot into the dirt. “Can we see it?”

 

“Sure,” the old man said. He grabbed a keyring covered in keys from the table in front of him and stood up. He motioned for Ryan and Dallon to follow him, and so they did. Dallon stayed behind Ryan, not sure where the man was taking them. Ryan trusted these people. Dallon didn’t know them, but he knew Ryan, and he trusted Ryan not to take him somewhere dangerous.

 

Dallon shook his head at himself. He was at a used car dealership. He wasn’t anywhere dangerous. 

 

The three of them ended up getting on a golf cart to drive through the car lot to where the van was. According to the old man, it was a minivan, but the back and middle seats could be taken out when needed. The backseat could even be moved up so that there was a divide between the car and the trunk space. 

 

Dallon liked the van already. He hadn’t seen it, but as long as it wasn’t overpriced or not driveable, he’d be okay with it. This was going to be Dallon’s first car, so he didn’t have very high expectations. He did  _ have  _ expectations, though, and so he was a little thrown off when the three of them stopped in front of what was probably the most obnoxious looking vehicle on the lot. 

 

It was, indeed, a van. A minivan, to be specific, and it was painted in a bright, metallic purple colour that caught in the sunlight and sparkled. It had a Utah license plate and the tires were a little flat, but it looked like it was in good condition.

 

Dallon looked over at Ryan. “Do you want to show up to gigs in that?”

 

“Hell yeah, dude,” Ryan said. He jumped out of the golf cart and walked up to the side of the van. Ryan looked it up an down and then tapped the rearview mirror. “I love it. It’ll be iconic.”

 

“I hope so,” Dallon said, because the other option was that they all looked like idiots piling in and out of a bright purple minivan. It was better than nothing, though. Dallon turned to the old man. “How much is it?”

 

“Nine hundred,” the man said. He shook his head. “Not a lot of people want a purple van.”

 

“We’ll take it,” Dallon said. He didn’t think he’d be able to find a cheaper van anywhere else. Nine hundred was a lot, but Ryan and the two Matts had bought Dallon his bass so Dallon had some savings left over from that. He figured he owed them, and there was no better way to repay his friends than to get them a car that they could all use. 

 

It would be in Dallon’s name, though. Dallon had the best credit and driving history of the four of them, and he still hadn’t shed his Mormon on a mission look. (Ryan called it that. Seppi thought it was just the BYU look). 

 

Dallon wrote out a check while Ryan messed around inside of the van. It hurt, spending that much money, but it was for a good reason. The van would be useful. It was helping to get the Brobecks off the ground, and it would be worth it in the long run. 

 

Dallon breathed and handed the check over. “Thanks.”

 

“Thank you,” the old man said. He nodded his head over towards Ryan and the van. “I’m glad to get that one off my hands.”

 

Dallon looked over at the van. It was his now. His, Ryan’s, Seppi’s, and Glass’s. Dallon smiled a little, because even though the van was ridiculous and Ryan looked ridiculous sitting in the front seat of it, it was his. It was a car, it could fit a drum kit, and it was the beginning. Dallon loved it.

 

* * *

 

**October 19, 2001; Provo, Utah.**

 

Ryan was weirdly quiet. Dallon had three classes on Friday, whereas Ryan only had one, so Dallon didn’t see him much that morning. It didn’t matter, though, because Ryan was a pretty talkative person. He got Dallon to talk, which was nice because Dallon actually liked having conversations with people. He was just bad at starting them. 

 

Dallon was on his way back from his afternoon class when he had a brilliant idea. There was a Panda Express in the student center, and they took meal plan credits. Dallon turned on his heel and headed back towards the student center to get two orders of orange chicken and fried rice. If Ryan was having a shit day, this could help. 

 

Hopefully. Dallon just knew that Ryan liked orange chicken and he also knew that food was a good way to make people less upset. 

 

The to go bag bounced against Dallon’s leg as he hiked across campus to get to his and Ryan’s dorm. It was tucked up in the northeast corner of campus, away from everything else. Dallon didn’t hate it, even though he had to walk everywhere. There were buses, and it wasn’t snowing yet, so he didn’t mind the extra walk. He had a feeling that his opinion would change once it stayed below freezing and snow started falling. 

 

Dallon was not ready for snow. 

 

He fished his room key out of his pocket and shoved the door open since his hands were full of books and Panda Express. Ryan was still in the dorm, with his headphones on and something loud and angry bleeding out of them. Dallon dropped the takeout and his backpack down onto his desk before pulling out one of the takeout boxes and a pair of chopsticks and heading over to Ryan’s bed.

 

He set the box down on Ryan’s chest. Ryan startled and looked down at his chest, and then up at Dallon. He took his headphones off and paused the music. His face was scrunched up in confusion, and he looked adorable (Dallon shoved that thought into a mental trash can as soon as he thought it). “You got me Chinese?”

 

“You seemed upset about something,” Dallon said. He handed over the chopsticks and then grabbed his own food. “Figured this might help? We can talk about it, if you want.”

 

Ryan watched him for a moment. He sat up and opened his takeout, and took a bite of chicken all while still looking at Dallon. Dallon wondered if he should have gotten Ryan a drink as well. He didn’t know what Ryan liked to drink, though, so maybe it was better that he hadn’t. 

 

Ryan swallowed and then twirled his chopsticks like drumsticks. “So. One of my Godfathers died four years ago today.”

 

“Oh,” Dallon said. “Ryan, I’m sorry--”

 

“--and some asshole thought it would be funny to leave a note on my parents’ door about how he died,” Ryan continued. He looked pissed off, but also sad, and Dallon wished that there was something he could do. Ryan took another bite of chicken. “My other Godfather died five months before him. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to watch someone die alone?  _ Twice _ ?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dallon said, because he couldn’t think of much else. It didn’t even register to him that Ryan had said  _ other Godfather _ . 

 

“It’s fucked up. People call themselves Christian, go around saying love one another, and then have the fucking audacity to leave a note saying  _ AIDS is God’s message to queers _ on my mom’s door,” Ryan said. He was calm, even though his words weren’t.

 

Dallon paused. “Your. Your Godfather was gay?”

 

“Godfathers. Plural,” Ryan said. He looked Dallon in the eyes with the same quiet anger he’d had in his voice, and Dallon shivered. “They weren’t married, but they were like family to my mom. And the mattered a hell of a lot to me, so if you have any issue with them--or anyone else--being gay, you should mention that right now so I can just process all this shit at once.”

 

“I don’t--I don’t care,” Dallon said. How could he? He was also gay. If he cared about other people being gay, that would make him a hypocrite, and that was definitely something God didn’t approve of. Dallon swallowed. “Ryan, that doesn’t matter. If they were important to you, they were important to you. And… no one deserves to die like that.”

 

“I know,” Ryan said. He took a deep breath. “It just… it sucks, you know? My mom and dad, they both still believe in God and they’re still Mormons, but I don’t think I can be. I can’t sit back and watch how the Mormon church treats gay people and act like I’m okay with it. If there is a God, why would He care who people love or don’t love? Why does that matter to everyone so much?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dallon said. He felt like this was when he was supposed to tell Ryan that he was gay too, but he couldn’t. There was a voice in the back of Dallon’s head telling him that Ryan was okay with his Godfathers being gay because they were like relatives to him. Dallon was a friend and peer, and if Dallon was gay that would be different for Ryan. 

 

Ryan couldn’t know. It didn’t matter that he had had gay Godfathers. He couldn’t know that he was living with a gay man. Dallon could keep his mouth shut. 

 

Dallon poked at a piece of chicken. “Is there… is there anything we could do? About the note, or anything, really. I feel bad.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Ryan said. “I could show you what they looked like, if you want? You’re the first person on campus I’ve told about them.”

 

Dallon nodded. 

 

Ryan set his food down and pulled out a miniature photo book from his backpack. “I’m not ashamed of them, you know. They were cool guys, and it sucked that they died. I want people to know about them, obviously. They were family.”

 

He flipped through and handed the book over to Dallon. There was a picture of a younger Ryan sitting on one end of a couch while two men in their late 30s were sitting on the other end. Apparently Ryan’s mom had met one of the Godfathers while at college, and since both of them were only children, they’d bonded and become like siblings almost immediately. 

 

“You were a weird looking kid,” Dallon said. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to look at the Godfathers for too long. There was a different universe where that was him. There was a different universe where Dallon didn’t stay closeted and ended up in a relationship with a man, and it didn’t end well. Things never ended well for people like Dallon. He knew that, but it was scary to see the evidence in front of him. 

 

“Yeah, I think I was eleven then,” Ryan said. “My parents were cool. They let me and my younger brother get into pretty much anything as long as it was legal. I went to my first rock concert with my dad when I was nine, and he let me cut my hair into a mohawk because that’s what the drummer looked like.”

 

“Oh, wow,” Dallon said. “I… never got to do stuff like that.”

 

Ryan’s eyes lit up, and the mood of the room changed. “Dude. We’re going to SLC for Halloween then. I know where all the best Halloween parties are gonna be.”

 

“Are you even old enough to get in?” Dallon asked. 

 

Ryan punched his arm. “Shut up. Yes I am. We can’t have anything to drink, though. Utah sucks when it comes to that stuff. But we can get in, and we can wear costumes and shit. It’ll be fun.”

 

“Okay, sure, I’ll go to a big city costume party with you,” Dallon said. He looked back down at the photo one more time, just to remind himself. Ryan probably wasn’t gay. Ryan would have said something. He had gay Godfathers. He knew how to read a room to see if it was safe to talk about being gay. 

 

Dallon sighed. He could do this. He had feelings for Ryan, but he wouldn’t act on them. Ryan and him were friends, nothing more. Never anything more. 

 

* * *

 

**October 31, 2001; Salt Lake City, Utah.**

 

Dallon could hear the bass thumping from out on the street, but he couldn’t tell which building it was coming from. There were multiple places open and filled with young people dressed in costumes. He was following Ryan, who was dressed as a zombie. Dallon had been forced into a vampire costume, which was annoying because of the fangs in his mouth. Other than that, it was okay. The cape was pretty cool. Dallon liked capes. 

 

Ryan grabbed Dallon’s arm and pulled him between two buildings and then down a set of stairs. It was dark down here, but the bass was still thumping. Ryan knocked on the door, and a slot opened to reveal a pair of hazel eyes. Ryan stood up on his toes. “Hi.”

 

“Passcode?” the pair of eyes asked. 

 

“Butternut squash,” Ryan said. The slot disappeared, and then the door opened just enough for Ryan and Dallon to slip in. Dallon’s eyes widened as he took in everything in the basement. It was done up like any other club, but there were a couple rainbows tacked up on the wall and Dallon had a horrible feeling about where Ryan had taken him. 

 

He tapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Did you… is this a gay bar?”

 

“Yeah, and it’s technically illegal, so be cool,” Ryan said. “But trust me, underground gay bars are the best parties.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dallon said. He suddenly wanted to go back home. This was almost too much. What if someone hit on him? What was he supposed to do then? He’d never been hit on by a guy, and he didn’t want to accidentally out himself because he didn’t react how a straight man would. Dallon swallowed. “I’m… I’m gonna just hang out by the bar for now.”

 

“Your loss,” Ryan said, and immediately jumped into the center of the room.

 

Dallon ran his hands through his hair and then backed up over to the bar. He couldn’t get into this the way Ryan was. He asked for a water and crossed his legs under the barstool. He could just hang out here. It would be fine. Ryan would hopefully just think that Dallon was being an introvert and that his anxiety had nothing to do with being gay. 

 

Dallon really didn’t know what to do in this situation. 

 

“First time?” a voice asked. Dallon turned to see a man as tall as he was, with an impressive beard and a smattering of green glitter across his cheeks. He was meant to be a leprechaun. He gave Dallon a warm smile. “It’s alright, you can be yourself here.”

 

“I’m not--” Dallon spluttered out. There was no real way for him to finish that sentence, though, because he  _ was _ . He  _ was  _ gay, he  _ was  _ nervous, he  _ was  _ falling for his best friend. It was bad. Dallon looked out on the dance floor, desperately searching for Ryan. Ryan was doing just fine, however, dancing between two men in slutty versions of Batman and Superman. 

 

“Are you two together, then?” the man asked.

 

Dallon shook his head. “No, Ryan’s my friend. Just my friend.”

 

“Glad you’re supportive, then,” the man said, and clapped Dallon on the shoulder. “Not a lot of people around here are.”

 

“Thanks?” Dallon said. He looked back over at Ryan. So maybe Ryan was gay, but was keeping quiet for the same reasons Dallon was. He seemed to fit in perfectly, and when the music changed over to  _ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun _ , he got just as excited as the men he was dancing with. 

 

Dallon smiled despite himself. Ryan was endearing, and seeing him scream along to an 80s pop song was one of the funniest things Dallon had seen in a while. Dallon’s heart flipped over in his chest like a pancake, and Dallon considered getting up and going over to dance with Ryan. He imagined Ryan grabbing his hands and spinning him around as they screamed the lyrics at each other, not caring what people were thinking because no one cared that they were both guys. 

 

He pictured grabbing one of the wrappings on Ryan’s costume and pulling him in for a kiss, not having to worry about what people would say. No one would mind if they kissed here. Dallon could do it, if he wanted. 

 

Dallon finished the rest of his water. He had it bad. He had it really, really bad.

 

It couldn’t end well.

 

* * *

 

**November 6, 2001; Provo, Utah.**

 

It was a Tuesday. Dallon found himself in the library, with his hands in his hair and an open book in front of him. He was in an intro to history class, and he’d decided to do a project on a Creek woman named Mary Musgrove specifically because there wasn’t a lot of information on her and Dallon wanted to add to it. 

 

_ “Dude, you should just be a historian if that’s the way you approach essays,” _ Glass’s voice echoed back t him. Dallon had thought about it. He liked history. His issue was that he didn’t know how to research things, and he’d get frustrated often. There wasn’t anything about Musgrove anywhere, except for a few snippets of articles from random journals. 

 

Dallon was going to fail his history class because of this. 

 

Someone slid a hot cup over towards him and his book. Dallon looked up and saw that it was Ryan, and that the cup was hot apple cider. Ryan was holding a cup of his own. He smiled at Dallon. “I know you don’t drink caffeine, and I couldn’t remember if hot chocolate counted, so I got cider instead. Figured you might want something.”

 

Dallon blinked. “Oh. Thanks?”

 

“You look stressed,” Ryan said. He sat down in the seat across from Dallon. “I can’t write the essay for you, but I can give you food and shit.”

 

“That helps,” Dallon said, smiling. He and Ryan hadn’t talked much about Halloween night. Dallon was trying to avoid it as much as possible. He knew that he had a crush on Ryan and that there wasn’t much he could do about it other than hide it and hope he got over it quickly. He was afraid to go back to Salt Lake City though, because he didn’t know if there were other underground gay bars and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found out the answer. 

 

Ryan tapped Dallon’s calf with his foot. “How’s it going?”

 

“Not great,” Dallon said. “I know I should have started it earlier, but I didn’t, and now I’ve got three more days to research and write this thing.”

 

“How many pages?” Ryan asked. 

 

“Eight to ten,” Dallon said. “It’s the only paper we have.”

 

“Shit,” Ryan said. He took a long sip from his drink. “You sure you don’t want to break the caffeine rule? Just for this project?”

 

“I can’t,” Dallon said. He didn’t like breaking rules, especially not ones that he’d set for himself. Dallon was afraid that if he broke one of his rules, it would be like knocking over dominos and then there wouldn’t be anything stopping him from doing whatever he wanted, no matter how dangerous it could be.

 

Dallon wasn’t the type to live dangerously. 

 

Ryan shrugged. “Alright. But if you change your mind, let me know. I know where all the good coffee is.”

 

“I’m sure you do,” Dallon said, smiling. He ducked his head behind the book he was looking through, and tried to ignore Ryan’s presence. Luckily, Ryan had brought work of his own, and was flipping through notes while Dallon flipped through his own. It was nice. It was easy. Dallon was spending more time watching Ryan, but that was okay. He could get back to being productive whenever Ryan got bored and left.

 

The sun began to set, and Ryan closed his notes. Everything in the library was tinted a rose gold colour, and Dallon could see why people spent so much time here outside of exam season. It was cozy. It would make for a nice first date spot, or for a couple of friends to hang out and relax after class. 

 

“You make any progress?” Ryan asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Dallon said after a moment. Ryan looked nice. His hair was in his face as it always was, and his eyes were tinted copper. Dallon swallowed. “Are you leaving?”

 

“Yeah, I’m meeting some friends at the dining hall and then we’re gonna go have a movie marathon at Sam’s apartment,” Ryan said. Dallon had no idea who Sam was. He couldn’t keep up with all of the people that Ryan knew. Ryan grabbed his empty drink. “You can come if you want. I’ll give you Sam’s address?”

 

“I’m good, thanks,” Dallon said, even though part of him wanted to go. He still had too much of his research left. He’d gotten a lot of information, but he had a long ass essay ahead of him. Dallon didn’t think he’d have time for a movie marathon. 

 

Ryan squeezed Dallon’s shoulder as he passed him. “Okay. Good luck with your shit, Dal. I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

 

Dallon nodded. Once Ryan was gone he put his hand where Ryan’s had been just a moment before. It was just a crush. Nothing was going to come out of it. Nothing could come out of it.

 

* * *

 

**December 13, 2001; Provo, Utah.**

 

Ryan sat down on the edge of the Brobecks van. Seppi and Glass were arguing over who got shotgun. Dallon was adjusting the instruments so that he could get his bass in without it hitting anyone in the head. 

 

He looked down at Ryan. “You’re no help.”

 

“I got my shit in,” Ryan shrugged. “You’re on your own.”

 

“This is why I’m not driving you home,” Dallon said. The real reason, which they both knew, was that Eagle Mountain was an hour drive in the wrong direction. Dallon liked Ryan (as a friend and as other things), but he wasn’t going to turn a five hour drive into a seven hour drive for him. There was snow. Dallon wasn’t used to driving in snow. He was not looking forward to leaving Utah because of the snow. 

 

“You’re gonna do it eventually,” Ryan said, and wiggled his eyebrows.  _ What did that even mean?? _ Dallon laughed at him, because he didn’t have a better response, and Ryan kicked his ankle. “Listen, asshole, you have a car, I live nearby, you’re taking me home for spring break next semester.”

 

“You made me get a car so I could drive you around, didn’t you,” Dallon said. He shook his head and pushed his bass towards the middle of the van. 

 

“Maybe,” Ryan said. He was grinning up at Dallon. “You know I can drive, right? I just didn’t want to have to park a car on campus.”

 

“...I hate you,” Dallon said. Parking was horrible on campus. Dallon was glad that the Brobecks van was a used car, because then if something bad happened to it he wouldn’t feel like his life was falling apart. 

 

Ryan stood up and put his hand on Dallon’s shoulder again. He was close to Dallon, closer than necessary, and for a moment Dallon wondered if Ryan was about to do something. Ryan was more impulsive, and he tended to jump into things without thinking them through sometimes. It was possible. Ryan might kiss Dallon, and Dallon didn’t know if he wanted him to or not. 

 

“No you don’t,” Ryan said. He squeezed Dallon’s shoulder and then let go. “Come on, I think we should tell Seppi and Glass that I called shotgun forever now.”

 

“Yeah, totally,” Dallon said, and didn’t touch the spot that Ryan had just touched. 

 

He fished the keys out of his back pocket and went around the other side of the car. Seppi and Glass got into the backseat, and Glass said something about Ryan’s dibs being unfair. Dallon didn’t pay much attention. He had to drive all the way up to Salt Lake City in the snow, and the sun was already setting. 

 

Dallon took a deep breath, shoved the keys into the ignition, and started the car. The Doobie Brothers filtered in through the radio, and Seppi reached between the seats to turn it up as Dallon pulled out of the parking deck. 

 

It wasn’t actively snowing, thankfully. Dallon had made everyone leave early so that he would have time to drive without having to worry about getting caught in any snow. The snow looked pretty, stacked up on the side of the road, but Dallon wanted no part of it. 

 

He unzipped his jacket as they drove north. It wasn’t getting any warmer outside, but the Brobecks van had a working heater system, and Dallon was going to use it. He was the only one who was bundled up in the band, because all three of his bandmates were from Utah and were used to the cold. 

 

“You look like a marshmallow,” Seppi said. Elton John was in the background. 

 

Dallon rolled his eyes. “I didn’t grow up in the literal Rocky Mountains, Seppi. You’re pretty much a Yeti.”

 

“It’s the beard,” Ryan said. He was wearing a jean jacket and a beanie and acting as though that was enough in twenty-five degree weather. Dallon didn’t understand Utah people. It was like they’d never been cold in their life. He suspected they wouldn’t survive the summer in Vegas, and that if he invited them down for the summer they’d melt. 

 

“It’s definitely the beard,” Seppi said. “It’s also why I’ve got a girl and all three of you are sad and single.”

 

“I’m working on it,” Glass said. He combed his fingers through his hair. “Besides, after tonight’s gig, I’m sure we’ll be swarmed with chicks. Girls dig guys who can play instruments.”

 

“Not everything is about getting a girlfriend,” Ryan said. He looked over at Dallon. “Right? I mean, shit, sometimes it’s fun to just go out and play some good ass music.”

 

“Ryan’s only saying that because there aren’t any freaky goth girls at BYU,” Glass said, punching Dallon in the shoulder. Dallon let out a startled laugh. He could be a goth girl. Well, he couldn’t be a girl, because that wasn’t how things worked, but he could be goth. He could be Ryan’s type, if Goth was indeed Ryan’s type. 

 

Dallon shook his head. No, nope, he wasn’t going to do anything to get Ryan’s attention. The two of them couldn’t be together. Dallon couldn’t do that. He had to be safe, and smart, and not goth. 

 

“I’m not trying to get with a goth chick, jeez,” Ryan said. He turned around in his seat and swatted at Glass. “Unlike some people, I did have a girlfriend in high school. I already know the ins and outs, so I’m in no rush.”

 

“Sure,” Seppi said. “Just remember you said that when we find you making out with some freaky chick after our set.”

 

“I think Ryan would have the decency to at least take her to the van,” Dallon said. He glanced over at Ryan, quickly, before looking back at the road. “That being said, don’t you dare bring a girl in this van. I paid for it, so no getting laid in it.”

 

“Fair,” Ryan said. He let out a sigh and settled back in his seat. Dallon could feel Ryan’s eyes on him. “I’m really not trying to hook up at this show, though. I don’t want to be one of those sleazy opening bands who fuck on sight.”

 

“I don’t think you’re like that,” Dallon said, because he didn’t. He hadn’t seen Ryan hit on any girls, which only fuelled the little gremlin in Dallon’s brain that said that Ryan had to be gay. Dallon didn’t want to fuel that little gremlin, but he couldn’t control how much Ryan did or did not hit on girls. 

 

Dallon turned the radio up further and focused on the highway. Luckily, he was going to be on the highway for a while, so he didn’t have to pay attention to exits until they were well into Salt Lake City. Dallon was fine with that. He’d let the other three talk, and give his opinion occasionally. He wasn’t in a rush. They were on the highway, headed up to their first ever show as a band. 

 

Dallon wasn’t nervous. He was too excited about performing to be nervous. 

 

* * *

 

**December 13, 2001; Salt Lake City, Utah.**

 

They were the opening band for the opening band, but none of the Brobecks cared. They’d gotten on stage, they’d sung cover followed by original song followed by cover, and people had seemed interested. Dallon would take it. 

 

After the show was over, everyone moved back out to the parking lot to chat with fans. Dallon hovered behind the Matts while Ryan ran around getting to know everyone else. Ryan was the face of the group, it seemed, and Dallon was perfectly fine with that. 

 

“You guys were great,” a girl to Dallon’s left said. 

 

“Thanks,” Dallon said. He motioned to the Matts. “It’s our first gig together, so hopefully we didn’t sound like a dumpster fire.”

 

She laughed. “Far from it. I’m Josie, by the way.”

 

“Dallon,” he said. He was pretty sure Seppi had introduced them all at one point during their set. The set had gone well, considering they’d only been a band for a few months and they were nowhere near ready to release any kind of album. Glass had been the one to find the gig and get them invited, and none of the Brobecks were willing to turn down a show. 

 

“You have a great voice,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about starting a band of my own, but it’s hard to find people who want to be in a band with a girl.”

 

Dallon raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding me? That’s… that’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard. Have these people ever listened to Fleetwood Mac? Or, shit, Blondie?”

 

The girl laughed, and Dallon wondered if it was at him or at his examples. He wasn’t the best at small talk, and he wished that Ryan would come back. Ryan could carry any conversation with anyone. It didn’t matter who they were or what music they liked to listen to. 

 

As if he could read Dallon’s mind, Ryan appeared and tapped Dallon on the shoulder. “Hey, sorry, not to interrupt your date but there’s an ice rink nearby and I’m gonna convince the Matts to come with us. You can bring your friend too, it’s cool.”

 

Dallon looked over at Josie, not sure if she was the friend in question. Josie nodded. “Sounds great, I’m in.”

 

“Awesome,” Ryan said, and grabbed the two of them. They found Glass trying to get some other girl’s number, and Ryan pulled him away before he could. It wasn’t Glass’s fault that girls weren’t interested in him. He was awkward and he tried too hard to get them to say yes. If a girl wasn’t interested, there wasn’t much Glass or any other guy could do to change her mind.

 

Seppi was over by the Brobecks van, on the phone with his girlfriend. Of the four of them, he was the only one with a cellphone and he used up all of his minutes talking to her. 

 

Dallon rolled his eyes. “Seppi, dude, come on, you’ll be back in Provo in a few hours. Angela can wait.”

 

“Where are you two taking us now?” Seppi said as he followed Dallon and Ryan around to the front of the car. 

 

“Ice rink!” Ryan called out. He opened the passenger side door and then let Josie in instead, which surprised Dallon. Ryan winked at Dallon. “Figured you two might want to keep talking.”

 

“Oh, so Dallon can bring home a girl but I can’t?” Glass said from the backseat. “I see how it is. I knew you had favourites, Ryan, but you could at least pretend a little.”

 

“Nah, Dallon needs to know that I’d do anything for him,” Ryan said. “We live together. I don’t want to get killed in my sleep.”

 

“You live together?”Josie asked. 

 

Dallon nodded and turned the car on. He wasn’t sure how or why everyone had decided that he was trying to get a date with her. He barely knew her. Dallon didn’t know if he was supposed to play along or if playing along would make things worse. He wasn’t into girls, but he couldn’t come out and say that he wasn’t into girls. He sighed. “Yeah, we’re roommates. We go to BYU together, that’s how we all met each other.”

 

“Oh, so you’re a Mormon then?” Josie asked. She sounded a little disappointed.

 

“Everyone but Ryan,” Dallon said. “He’s only at BYU because of the goth diversity points the college gets for him.”

 

“Hey,” Ryan said. “Fuck you.”

 

“Ignoring that,” Dallon said, and grinned back at Ryan just to annoy him a little more. He glanced over at Josie again. “I don’t think any of us are super strict when it comes to rules, though. We’re not going to lecture you about anything.”

 

“Well, that’s good,” Josie said. 

 

Dallon had the feeling that she was no longer interested in getting close to the band. He was fine with that. If someone was going to be thrown off by the fact that the Brobecks were all in college, that was their problem. 

 

He looked at Ryan through the rearview mirror. “So. Ice rink. You wanna give me directions?”

 

* * *

 

**December 14, 2001; Provo, Utah.**

 

It was two in the morning. Dallon was somewhere between cold and exhausted and absolutely delirious. They’d skated for hours, until Josie admitted that she’d been trying to hook up with Dallon and Dallon had told her he wasn’t that kind of guy. There’d been something about Mormons having sticks up their asses, but Dallon had ignored it. 

 

He wasn’t that type of guy. He didn’t think he was ready to hook up with a stranger, especially a stranger he wasn’t attracted to. If Dallon ever had sex with someone, he wanted to at least be  _ interested _ in them. 

 

They’d driven home, late, and Ryan had convinced them all to stop at a late night diner halfway home to get coffee and snacks. Dallon had agreed, and then gotten water instead of coffee because the coffee tasted nasty. Glass had taken Dallon’s coffee instead, and then he’d been vibrating and talking about nonsense the rest of the drive home.

 

“He’s gonna crash so hard in about five hours,” Ryan said as he and Dallon got out of the Brobecks van. Ryan looked up at the sky for a moment. “It’s about to start snowing.”

 

Dallon shook his head. “How the hell do you know that?”

 

“I’m a mountain man,” Ryan replied, and bumped his shoulder against Dallon’s. “And you’re swearing now. That’s cool.”

 

“It’s your fault,” Dallon said. He looked down at Ryan. “If I swear in front of my parents I’m going to blame you for that.”

 

“What if they make you change rooms?”

 

“They wouldn’t,” Dallon said. His parents didn’t have that much control over Dallon. “That’s what Glass’s parents would do if you guys were together. Rooming together, I mean. They’re intense.”

 

“They really are,” Ryan said. He dug his boots into the snow and flipped his hair out of his face. “I met them on parents’ weekend, did I tell you that? They wanted to meet all of Glass’s friends to make sure they were all good influences, and so Glass introduced them to me and they told me--to my face--that my hair made me look like a woman and that God didn’t approve of that.”

 

Dallon let out a laugh. “Oh yeah, because God totally cares about someone’s hair.”

 

“Totally,” Ryan said back. 

 

A snowflake fell on Dallon’s nose, and he looked up to see that more were coming. “Huh. Guess you were right about the snow.”

 

“Told you. I’m a mountain man,” Ryan said. He grabbed Dallon’s elbow and started pulling him towards the dorm hall. Dallon let himself be led, just as an excuse to hold onto Ryan for a little while longer. Ryan was warm, and even under his jacket, Dallon was still a little cold.

 

Ryan let go of Dallon to grab his key and get into the building. He looked up at Dallon, looking him over for a moment. “You know, I’m kind of glad Josie wasn’t interested in you.”

 

Dallon crossed his arms over his chest. “Wow, thanks.”

 

“No, I mean if you brought her home, I would have had to sleep in the commons room,” Ryan said. He made a face. “And no offense, but I’d rather sleep in our room than on a couch where anyone can see me.”

 

“Same here,” Dallon said. 

 

“Maybe we should hold off on bringing anyone home until we’re out of the dorms,” Ryan said. He shrugged. “Not that I’ve gotten any offers. Just, you know, in case it happens again.”

 

“Yeah, definitely,” Dallon said. The thing in his chest flipped again. He followed Ryan into the building and up to their dorm. Something felt different now. Maybe it was the snow, or the adrenaline from his first ever gig. Maybe it was how Ryan was closer now, watching Dallon carefully. 

 

Dallon ran his hands through his hair as the door to their room closed. “Ryan.”

 

Ryan paused, his jacket half off. “Yeah?”

 

“I um, I should probably tell you something,” Dallon said. The words were falling out of his mouth before he could stop them. So this was how Dallon’s semester would end. Not with exams but with coming out to his roommate.

 

Ryan shrugged the rest of his jacket off and turned to face Dallon fully. “What is it?”

 

“I…” Dallon didn’t know how to put it into words. He didn’t know how far he was willing to come out, or what he was willing to say. He stepped forward, and Ryan didn’t move. Dallon opened his mouth to say something, to explain what was going on inside of his head and his chest, but instead he just leaned down and kissed Ryan. 

 

And for a moment, the world ended. 

 

And then Ryan pulled back and looked up at Dallon like he’d finally figured everything out. “Oh.”

 

“Shit,” Dallon said, because there wasn’t anything else he could say in this situation. “Shit, Ryan, that’s not--”

 

“Dal,” Ryan said softly, and the nickname hurt more than any word Ryan could call him. “I’m flattered, but I’m not into guys. Sorry.”

 

“We can… we should just pretend that didn’t happen,” Dallon blurted out. His face was hot. He wanted to take his jacket off but he was also pretty sure Ryan was about to make him sleep on the couch. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking--”

 

Ryan put his hand over Dallon’s mouth. “Hey. No. You’re fine. I don’t care that you’re into guys, or me, or whatever. I’ve kissed girls without making sure they were into me, so I get it. It’s fine, it’s not weird, we’re good.”

 

Dallon frowned and pushed Ryan’s hand away. “Ryan. I’m not a girl.”

 

“I’m well aware of that,” Ryan said. “But seriously, it’s fine.”

 

“This isn’t going to make things weird between us?” Dallon asked. He pointed to the space between the two of them. “This isn’t going to make next semester, or the band, weird? Me being…?”

 

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Ryan said. He shrugged. “You’re gay, so what? Two of the coolest guys I knew were gay.”

 

“That’s different, they were like family to you,” Dallon said. 

 

“And you’re one of my best friends,” Ryan said. “Now I know to steer you towards dudes instead of chicks, that’s all.”

 

“Ryan, no,” Dallon said. He shook his head. “I’m not--kissing you wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done--”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“--but going out and dating other guys? Here?” Dallon pointed outside. “That would be really bad. I mean, shit, the gay bar you took me to was illegal. What happens if I get caught? What happens if  _ you _ get caught helping me?”

 

“Then we deal with it,” Ryan said. “But you shouldn’t have to sit around being lonely and sad and shit while the rest of us can get laid at the drop of a hat. It’s not fair.”

 

“It’s safe,” Dallon said. “I’d rather be safe than fair.”

 

“Your loss,” Ryan said. He sat down on his bed and kicked his boots off. “Look, Dallon, there’s no harm in going to a bar. You don’t have to hook up with a guy just because you’re there.”

 

“I know that,” Dallon said. 

 

“But I think you should go,” Ryan said, looking up at Dallon. “It doesn’t have to be here. It can be over the break, while you’re in Nevada and it’s legal there. Just… go out and see what it’s like. You don’t have to hide who you are, not from everyone.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Dallon said. He wasn’t going to go over break. He couldn’t explain that to his parents, or to his brother. They’d ask where he was going, and Dallon wouldn’t have an answer for them. 

 

He could keep doing this. He didn’t need a boyfriend, or to kiss a man or have sex with a man. He was gay, and he was alone, and he was fine. Ryan meant well, but he didn’t know Dallon that well. 

 

Dallon swallowed. “Thanks, by the way.”

 

Ryan frowned. “For what?”

 

“For not freaking out,” Dallon said. 

 

“Of course, dude,” Ryan said. “Your my best friend. As long as you’re not running around shoving kids into the street or something, I’ve got your back.”

 

“What if I’m shoving adults into the street?” Dallon asked. 

 

“...depends on the adult,” Ryan said. 

 

Dallon laughed. So things weren’t different. Ryan was still Ryan, with his odd sense of humour and slightly off kilter morals, and Dallon was still himself. The only difference now was that Ryan knew Dallon’s secret, and he had taken it in stride. Dallon knew Ryan was an outlier. He still couldn’t tell the Matts, or anyone else. It was just him and Ryan now. 

 

* * *

 

**December 24, 2001; Las Vegas, Nevada.**

 

It had happened completely on accident. Everyone but Dallon had decided to go to Midnight church, and Dallon had decided to stay back. 

 

And then he’d gotten a call from his mom, saying that they would be staying late to help host a family at the church. She asked Dallon if he could make sure all the Christmas presents were put out for his nieces and nephew, and Dallon said he’d do it. 

 

Dallon put out the presents, looked at the clock, and realised that downtown Vegas would be lit up by now. Vegas was awake, as was Dallon, and there was nothing keeping him from going out and having a Christmas experience of his own. 

 

_ You don’t have to hide who you are, not from everyone _ , Ryan’s voice whispered into Dallon’s ear. Dallon took a deep breath and reached into his closet. He had no idea what was appropriate for a skeezy Vegas gay bar, or even where he was supposed to go to find a skeezy Vegas gay bar. It was Christmas Eve. Most gay men weren’t religious. Surely something would be open and Dallon could see for himself what the fuss was all about. 

 

He grabbed the keys to the Brobecks van and headed out through the garage. It was cold, but not Utah cold, and so Dallon was fine in just a hoodie and a short-sleeved button down shirt. He wasn’t sure if he was over or underdressed, but at this point he was too nervous about everything else to care. 

 

Dallon turned the radio all the way up and drove. Fast. He wasn’t sure why he was rushing, except that he was and suddenly everything was glittery and flashy and he was in the heart of Las Vegas. He wasn’t sure how long he drove around before he found a bar with a rainbow over the top of it. There were men spilling in and out of it, and Dallon figured this was his best shot.

 

He parked a few blocks away, in a dark alley between two closed stores so that no one would connect his car to the gay bar. Dallon wasn’t taking any chances. 

 

“Can I see your ID?” the bouncer asked as Dallon came up to the door.

 

“Yeah, sure, hold on,” Dallon said. His hands were shaking. Nerves. He pulled out his wallet and showed his ID to the man, who nodded after a moment and let Dallon in. Dallon put his wallet back in his pocket and wondered why he hadn’t been marked as under twenty-one. It didn’t matter. Dallon wasn’t going to drink anyway. 

 

He moved through the people there, wondering how many of them were in the same situation as him. Dallon wasn’t scared now that he was inside. It was as though he’d stepped into a different universe, and it felt very different from Halloween. Here, he knew he was gay, but it didn’t matter if other men knew he was gay as well. They were all equally out in the open, and there was no one in here who Dallon knew outside of this bar. 

 

Dallon smiled, and looked over his shoulder at the entrance. This was what Ryan had been talking about, apparently. He wasn’t sure how Ryan had understood the feeling of freedom, but he wasn’t too concerned with it at the moment--

 

Dallon collided with someone, and he jumped back in surprise. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry--”

 

“--watch where I’m going… oh, hey,” the man said, slowly looking up to meet Dallon’s eyes. He looked to be a few years older than Dallon, with dark hair and soft hazel eyes. Dallon swallowed, and the man smiled up at him. “First time?”

 

“Second, technically, but I sat at the bar the whole time then,” Dallon said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess that doesn’t count.”

 

“It doesn’t have to,” the man said. He was holding a beer in his hand and he looked comfortable here. Not at all nervous. He motioned to the middle of the room. “Wanna dance, or are you more of a talker?”

 

“Dancing is fine,” Dallon said. “I’m Dallon, by the way. Sorry if I spilled anything on you.”

 

“I’m Jack, and don’t worry about it. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said. He placed a hand on Dallon’s back and something flipped inside Dallon again. Alright, so this was happening. 

 

Dallon leaned into Jack’s touch as the two melded in with the crowd. Jack was shorter than Dallon, but then again, so were most people, so Dallon didn’t mind. He’d never danced with a guy before, let alone a guy in a club, so he let Jack do most of the directing and just leaned in and tried not to panic. Jack was attractive, and somehow he and Dallon were able to have a conversation over the music. It felt too easy. Dallon knew he could kiss the man if he wanted to, and that unlike Ryan, Jack would kiss back. 

 

Jack ended up kissing first. He put one hand on Dallon’s cheek, turning his face toward him, and leaned up. Dallon kissed back, carefully dropping his hands to Jack’s waist and holding him there. He closed his eyes as Jack kissed him harder, and Dallon realised that maybe he was okay with having sex, so long as it was with a guy. 

 

Dallon pulled back. “Do you… do you wanna go somewhere else?”

 

“That was quick,” Jack said, and leaned in to kiss Dallon’s neck. “But yes. Did you have somewhere in mind?”

 

“Maybe,” Dallon said. “Depends on if you’re against making out in a car or not.”

 

“Well that depends on your definition of  _ making out _ ,” Jack said, and bit Dallon. Dallon made a noise, and he could feel Jack smiling against his neck. 

 

Dallon swallowed. “Doesn’t have to just be making out.”

 

“Then yes,” Jack said, and pulled back from Dallon’s neck. 

 

Dallon took Jack’s hand and led him through the bar, to the entrance. Jack let go as they left, but Dallon could sense his presence as the two trekked down the street to Dallon’s car. Dallon glanced over his shoulder anyway, just to make sure. Jack was still there. He looked calm, but he’d put enough distance between himself and Dallon that if shit got weird, he could get out. 

 

Dallon realised that Jack had done this before. He knew how to hook up with people, and have sex and all the things that Dallon had never experienced. 

 

Dallon pulled out his keys and unlocked the door to his car. He motioned towards the backseat. “Well, here it is.”

 

“Not bad,” Jack said. He leaned in and kissed Dallon again, and then turned around to pull Dallon into the backseat of the van. Dallon reached around behind himself to close the door and lock it, and then turned his attention back to Jack. Jack pulled Dallon down on top of him and ground his hips up against Dallon. “You have protection?”

 

“Shit, no,” Dallon said, sitting back up. He bit his lip. “Do you?”

 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Jack said. He sat up and pushed his hands under Dallon’s shirt, hiking it up around Dallon’s torso. Dallon grabbed Jack’s face and kissed him again, and Jack scrambled to get Dallon’s shirt unbuttoned. He ran his tongue over Dallon’s collarbone. “I’m like a boy scout, always prepared.”

 

Dallon let out a breathy laugh and shrugged off his shirt. “Thank goodness for that.”

 

Jack smiled. Dallon pulled Jack’s shirt off over his head, somehow not getting tangled up in it. He looked Jack over in the dark, taking the man in. Dallon shivered. This was it. This was him, in the back of the Brobecks van, getting laid. 

 

* * *

 

**January 7, 2002; Provo, Utah.**

 

“So, how was your break?” Ryan asked. He and Dallon were back in their dorm again, and Ryan was adding a few posters to his side of the room.

 

“Pretty good,” Dallon said. 

 

“Yeah?” Ryan asked. He looked at Dallon over his shoulder. “You look different, dude. What happened?”

 

“I went to a bar,” Dallon said. 

 

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously? Holy shit, man, how was it?”

 

“Well, uh, I met a guy there,” Dallon said.

 

“Did you…?” Ryan made a motion with his hands. 

 

Dallon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I got laid at a bar.”

 

“ _ At  _ the bar?” Ryan blurted out. Dallon threw a sock at him. Ryan threw it back and then went back to his posters. “That’s not what I was expecting from you. You’ve always struck me as a motel kind of hook up guy.”

 

“Oh, it wasn’t in the bar,” Dallon said. He grinned. Ryan’s back was turned to him. Dallon rolled his socks up into a little ball and tossed them into the air. “It was in the back of the band.”

 

“ _ You son of a bitch _ .”

 

Dallon laughed. He supposed he deserved that one.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd mcfuckin die for Ryan Seaman, best straight ally ever. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
